


Longanimity

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, The baby au has been delivered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Thedas is at a momentary peace with the aversion of a Civil War. Ferion and his partner Jathrin are still up to the tips of their ears in the residual bullshit from Corypheus, but if two elves can survive the Winter Palace, certainly they can survive whatever else life throws their way. It isn't until Ferion's own body betrays him (again) that he wonders how downhill things will go before the dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week One

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I don't have a reason for this. I really don't. I want to say that I do, but I really only wanted to see my two favourite elves suffer (and also because said two elves would have such a cute lil baby.) Ferion belongs to me, and Jathrin belongs to Anne. Warning for some smut-ish. Like. It's obvious they're fucking but it's not too graphic. Read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is property of rainbowd00dles on tumblr. I put it here with Anne's permission. Do not copy or repost.

_ _

_Part I: Week One_

**I.**

The night air flooded my parched lungs with a cool bite left in the wake of an extravagantly complex evening. Judging by how far above my gaze the moon hung, suspended amidst sea of twinkling stars, it must have been approaching the wee hours of the morning. Between the dancing and the demons I’d faced, which may as well have been one in the same, my body was weary with the heavy burden of holding an entire empire together by mere threads. I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to reconcile the empress and Briala, but it was an outcome I could live with, sans a weighty conscious.

Fatigue buckled my knees, and I let my weight dangle against the ornate marble balustrade overlooking the formal gardens. Behind me, the festivities celebrating the victory for the empire spilled through the glass doors and onto the empty balcony, only seeming to drain me further. I was weary of the gaze of so many humans in positions of power, and I longed to retire somewhere quiet where I could drown the ringing in my ears with an aged brandy.

Morrigan had only recently left my presence, but that was a headache I could deal with later. I still didn’t trust her entirely, but considering her newly bestowed position as liaison to the Inquisition, I would have the opportunity to pick her brain at Skyhold. She seemed eager to join my cause, but whether it was genuine emotion or a stepping stone to her own agenda, I couldn’t yet tell. Either way, the night seemed like it was nowhere near last call, and I had plenty of time to stew over the mage should the urge strike me.

Sighing deeply under the weight of my thoughts, I let my head droop between my sagging shoulders in something akin to defeat. The formal wear I’d been in and out all evening of felt too tight, too stiff, and the bindings holding my breasts down beneath the tailored coat were making my back ache something terrible.

I was content to slump messily along the marble, but the sound of footsteps behind my head caused me to stiffen. I mentally recited the formal turn down for a request to dance in my head until a familiar touch shut down the verse I’d been repeating like a prayer with a wave of calm.

“There you are. I have been looking for you. Are you alright? You look rather worse for the wear.”

Jathrin’s voice against my ears was a welcome sound, and it felt as if a blanket made of Orlesian silks had been draped around me. I turned to him with a tired smile ghosting along the edges of my pale lips. “I’m alright. Tonight was...very long.”

He smiled warmly, the rich mahogany of his skin positively radiant in the moonlight. My heart managed to flutter in helpless adoration, seeming to forget for a moment the exhaustion wracking me. Jathrin traced the pad of his thumb along the scar buried deep into the freckled flesh of my face, his dark eyes brimming with a look of mischief and boyish wonder. “You have done something amazing for Thedas tonight, Ferion. I am so proud of all of the things you accomplished. I know you are weary, my love, but I must ask before the night ends,”

I raised my brows in skepticism, watching with a loose chuckle as Jathrin’s lithe frame hunched in a formal offering of his open palm. His eyes met mine and I laughed, feeling the skin stretched taut over the high apples of my cheeks go ablaze with my own humility. I felt suddenly so very small, yet somehow so very large. The playful waggle of Jathrin’s thick brows worked only to stoke the fire boiling the blood beneath my skin, his unspoken invite putting me at the center of his world. It was moments like these that I treasured; the ones where I was allowed, if only for a time, to forget what being the Inquisitor meant to all the inhospitable nobles drinking to the fact somebody else had saved their sorry hides.

I let my title and my guard fall to the winds for a moment, chewing in hesitation on my lower lip as I easily slipped my hand into Jathrin’s. “You are too much sometimes, you know that?”

I felt his laugh, a deep rumble starting behind his ribcage and spilling over his mouth, as he pulled my small frame against his. Our hands fell into position without a second thought, chests flush, and Jathrin spun our bodies in a fluid twirl. “I am aware, as you have told me on other occasions. But this is a special occasion. I am a special kind of _too much_ , am I not?”

I somehow managed to avoid squishing Jathrin’s toes beneath my clumsy feet, scoffing with humor as we fell into a smooth rhythm with the music flowing out from the ballroom. “You are. Isn’t it kind of risky for two elves to dance so intimately in such a public space?”

“It perhaps could be, but consider the source, vhenan.” Jathrin had a particular knack for quelling my worries, and I still wasn’t sure whether I hated him or loved him for it. “Besides, what is the worst they could do to you? You are their Inquisitor, remember? Most of them are too drunk to see your ears clearly anymore. We are safe, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I began, softening my tone to an acute playfulness when I noticed the minute flinch drawing in Jathrin’s playful demeanor in as if somebody had quickly drawn the curtains. “You are dancing with _me_ , and your toes aren’t safe from a good squashing.”

 

* * *

 

**II.**

By the time the music had begun to wind down, Jathrin and I had long since vacated the balcony. He led me by the hand from the Winter Palace without a second word to my advisors or companions, pulling me from the bustling festivities to the private quarters just outside of the palace grounds that Josephine had managed to charm the empress into letting our party lodge in for the duration. They were arranged like suites, where anywhere from one to six people could stay together comfortably. As far as I knew, Josephine had arranged so each person I’d brought along was to share with another, save for myself. I had a “master bedroom” suite, wherein the small cottage-like building was designed around the ideal fairytale honeymoon nobility fawn over.

In a bout of good humor, Jathrin swept me off of my feet and carried me over the threshold of the building, slamming the door closed with his foot after we’d entered. He made a beeline for the bed, setting me down gently so I could easily get my bearings. I sat on the edge of the plush mattress outfitted with satin and furs, and I didn’t try to pretend to keep my hands from my lover.

“Thank you for being there for me tonight,” I murmured, wrapping my thighs around Jathrin’s legs as I guided his hips towards me. “I don’t think I would have been able to hold it together if I didn’t have you at my back.”

Jathrin’s hand gingerly snatched up my left wrist, his full lips pressing a meaningful kiss into my scarred palm, still sheathed in the tawny formal gloves. “Ar lath ma.” His answer was simple, but the meaning behind those three words struck me like lightning. “We should retire for the evening.”

“I quite agree,” I sighed, letting my legs fall with a weighty flop against the bed. Jathrin’s hand released my wrist, and instead took residence beneath my chin. The knuckle of his index finger gently tilted my gaze from the floor to the warm brown of his eyes. We lingered at the edge for a moment, and I cocked a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. I just…am concerned for you. I know you will not been too keen to speak of it, but how are you holding up? Your position demands so much from you, and tonight has not been an exception to that.” 

I sighed, puffing out my cheeks in a moment of sour thought. “…Honestly, I’m not quite sure how I’m not unraveling right now. I can feel how physically tired I am, but the rest of the emotional turmoil has yet to catch up with me. I’m hoping that I’ll just sleep that part off. I don’t really have the time of day to think about total emotional collapse. There’s so much that depends on me, and so much I’m fighting to protect. I know we’ve made great strides, but it seems like there’s always more to do. Keeping up with it all, well, it spins me in directions I never thought I’d take. For better or for worse, I have to stay as strong as I can, even if it’s all a façade.”

Jathrin pressed his warm lips to my forehead, his nose pushing my loose bangs aside. I wanted to melt into his embrace, sink in between his warmth and the satin plushness of the bed, and just stay nestled there until the world came crashing down around our bodies.

“We should get you out of those stiff clothes.” He offered after a still moment, pulling back so his long fingers could find the belt cinching my waist. Jathrin made quick work of it, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. While he worked to undo his own, I pushed the boots off of my feet, dropping them with a thoughtless ‘thump’ against the floor. The matching gloves soon met the same fate, falling gracelessly into the growing pile of discarded clothing.

In a fluid motion, I pulled the rich navy sash away from my body, feeling as my lungs seemed to expand inside the velveteen jacket that loosened around my frame. My fingers were clumsy from fatigue, and any efforts at undoing the intricate silver buttons only served to pull a frustrated sound from my lips.

I heard Jathrin chuckle, and looked up to find his fingers already at my chest. He made swift work of unfastening the troublesome buttons and dipped his fingers beneath the thick material of my coat, palms sliding along the protruding bone leading to my shoulders to push the article from my skin. He let it fall unceremoniously to the floor in a heap of red and gold, smiling fondly upon me as I was left clad in ashy brown trousers and my haphazard binding. When Jathrin’s eyes fell on the dirty cloth coiled around my ribs like a snake, the fond expression fell to displeasure.

“Ferion…”

“Don’t start, Jath. I know.” He frowned at me, but I turned my gaze away. I wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with whatever chastising was making the gears turn in Jathrin’s mind. “What else am I supposed to do? Risk being outed by the nobility? That stupid outfit didn’t hide anything. Josephine tried to help, but I couldn’t face all those snobbish nobles with an unbound chest. Please don’t get into it, Jathrin. I’m too tired, I’m so—”

“Hush,” Jathrin’s voice wasn’t as stern as I expected it to be, rather, it was filled with compassion. “You do not need to explain yourself to me. As I have said, I am concerned for you. I want only the best for you, my love. This…” He gestured to my chest, “…is not it.”

“I’m working with Josephine to see if she can get a proper garment tailored from Val Royeaux. She hasn’t had much luck in way of that. I talked to Krem too but the poor boy is in the same boat that I am. Honestly, people like us aren’t in the best position to lead safe or happy lives. You heard Krem’s story—”

“ _Ferion_. For the love of the Creators, stop. You do not need to explain yourself to me, and I am going to have to disagree with you. Your life may be in danger because of the mark on your hand and the trials put before you due to those circumstances, but that does not mean you are destined to live a life that does not fulfill you. You have a couple extra hurdles to cross compared to the average elf, but you are worth more than dirty bandages and fear of your own body betraying you to nobles.”

I almost laughed. “A couple extra hurdles?”

“Okay, more than a couple.” Jathrin’s face softened around the edges, and he nodded towards the bindings on my chest. “May I?”

“Oh, right, of course. I need to get out of those anyways.”

“Indeed.” His fingers touched the bandages looped tightly around one another, finding where I’d tucked the last loose piece to ensure my chest would be held in place as tightly as possible. Around my left side, the smooth texture was raised just so, and I felt the recoil as my entire body relaxed when the binding began to fall away from my skin. The dirty cloth unraveled into a tired heap as Jathrin removed it from my skin, and as I sat, bare chested, I took a deep swallow of air to force my lungs into proper functionality. My ribcage felt warped and the discomfort of the whole situation pulled me backwards to sprawl along the bed. “Oh, Ferion….”

The gasp that fell away from Jathrin’s lips lifted my head just so, and I purposefully looked beyond my bare skin to watch the other bring a hand up to cover his mouth in shock. “What? Am I bleeding?”

“Love, your ribs are completely bruised.”

“Huh?” I turned my gaze towards my chest, eyes widening as my alabaster skin had become almost unrecognizable beneath the bruises exploding in supernovas across the divots of muscle and bone. “Oh. Okay, well, I guess that explain the pain.”

Jathrin quickly finished kicking off the formal wear, leaving himself clad only in a pair of grey undergarments. He crawled onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress beside my body. “Are you alright? How is your pain? Can I do anything for you?”

“I mean, this isn’t the first time this happened, and the pain isn’t horrid. I’ll be fine.”

I could almost hear Jathrin’s brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, his strong arms scooped up my small frame, cradling me with a kind of gentleness that would made even the kindest of the Creators weep. His fingers carded through my disheveled brown tresses, putting me into a relaxed state almost instantly. I let my eyelids droop, taking large swallows of air to acclimate my body to being free from binding.

 

* * *

 

**III.**

I must have fallen asleep, because when I came back into myself, I was surrounded by a sea of down pillows and wrapped in the silken sheets that felt incredible against my bare skin. Crackling my eyes, I had to squint against the early morning light pooling through the curtains across the white tile floors.

Sighing softly, I buried my face into the impressive heap of pillows, wondering if I needed to be awake quite yet, or at all. Beside my body, I felt somebody stir, followed by a soft grunt of wakefulness.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

Jathrin’s voice was honey melting over gravel, rough from sleep but still smooth as the words rolled from his full lips. I turned to face him, my hair sticking up in every direction and yet somehow still draped over my eyes. “I think so.” I murmured, scooting along the sheets to press my body closer to his. My sore bones protested the action, but I ignored it and nestled myself in the hollow of my lover’s throat. His hand met my bare back, fingers tracing along the discs of my spine.

“You went right to sleep last night, I feared you had fallen into a coma.”

“I might as well have. I don’t remember falling asleep at all.”

“That is okay. I tucked you in and made sure you were comfortable. You slept soundly enough, and I am pleased you got some rest. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I suppose. I think I’m a little biased though. Waking up next to you always makes my days better.”

Jathrin’s small chuckle was hoarse, laced with the thick fog of sleep, and yet still my favourite sound in the whole world. He stopped the gentle tracing along my spine, instead pulling my body flush against his. The line between our bodies was noticeable only by the difference in expressed melanin, and the sharp angles of his torso that melted into the soft curves of mine. The steady rhythm of his heart pushed against his ribs, pulsing through my skin.

Jathrin buried his face in my sleep-wild hair, kissing the top of my head with a gentle affection that covered my body in sap, easily turning my stiff legs into putty. I smiled into his throat, kissing lovingly at the warm skin. In response, he mumbled something unintelligible into my hair, causing me to pull back, blinking through my foggy consciousness, and staring at him with raised brows.

“What did you say?”

I could have sworn the faintest shade of pink tinged my lover’s face, but his eyes bore into mine as if something in my gaze held everything he ever needed. “I am sorry, I tend to mumble first thing in the morning. I said that I love you and that you are my favourite good morning.”

The early dawn light, buttery yellow and flecked with residual bits of moonlight that manifested as sparking dust particles floating through the warm air, put an ethereal glow around Jathrin’s head, and I felt myself fall more in love with the man. He smiled with a sleepy fondness at me, and my arms rose from beneath the sheets to drape lazily around his broad shoulders. Jathrin’s hands traveled down to my waist, the slender digits tracing along the protruding bone of my hip through the trousers I’d fallen asleep in. He gingerly bumped his forehead against mine, and we breathed in slow synchronization for a beat.

While the sun began its slow crawl into the sky, Jathrin’s lips captured mine in a slow kiss that drew our lids to a close. Lazily, sleepily, the soft flesh of our mouths worked from a gentle press to a kiss with intention, prodding at the coals always burning on low in the pit of my stomach. I let my hands melt down the strong bones beneath Jathrin’s taut skin, fingers splaying across his chest as I felt his heart come to life beneath my palm. In exchange, Jathrin’s fingertips traced with a fine tipped precision along the curve of torso to my shoulder, cupping my neck as he pulled my lips closer to his.

My head became a mix of incoherency, fogged by fresh wakefulness and the intoxication of the moment. Yesterday’s events were tabled in the back of my mind, and whatever emotional whiplash I expected was pulled from my brain through my mouth, and expelled into the crisp morning air with soft sighs and gentle gasps between the wet sounds of our lips working in harmony.

Jathrin’s fingers traced along the sharp curve of my jaw, ripping a gentle shiver from beneath my skin. The wispy hairs across my body stood up as warmth pooled around my heart, suddenly cast across my body with the quickened pace that splattered the faintest rouge tint across my cheeks.

I pulled away from his lips for a breath, smiling faintly as I gathered one of his hands in my own. Softly, I trailed Jathrin’s fingertips along my throat, dripping along my collarbone, and finally coming to a halt above my heart. I pressed his palm into my chest, shuddering at the pleasant warmth of his palm on my breast, and leant in to peck his chin.

“You do these things to me, you know.” I murmured, skimming the crooked bridge of my nose along Jathrin’s jawline as my heart threw itself recklessly against my ribcage, pushing its way from the hollow of my chest towards my lover. “We only kissed, and yet…”

Jathrin bit his lower lip, dragging the flesh gently through his teeth before flicking his eyes to my face. I watched him with curiosity, smiling as the hand on my chest applied a bit of pressure, just enough to roll my body flat onto my back against the mattress. I sunk into the plush surface, a soft and slightly breathless laugh spilling over my kiss-flushed lips as Jathrin rolled his body on top of mine.  

“I was hoping perhaps I could raise your pulse rate further, yes?” Jathrin braced his forearms beside my head, caging me in as he gently lowered his body to kiss at my jawline. “…are you alright with this, love? I will stop if—”

“No!” I said, a little too eagerly judging by the way Jathrin stifled a chuckle against my skin. Clearing my throat, I tiled my head back just so. “No, I mean. Please continue.”

* * *

**IV.**

 

Sweat pearls beaded up against my forehead, cascading down my flushed skin and leaving a faint imprint of my body against the silken sheets. Jathrin’s hips thrusting against my body only served to draw more colour to my skin, and my thighs became padlocked around his waist as his name fell from my lips over and over, a broken record of my passion being sung like a prayer. Jathrin’s teeth sunk into my shoulder, stifling the soft grunts and broken Elvish that tumbled helplessly out of his mouth. His hand gripped the sheets beside my head, pulling up slightly at the force of the heat shared between our bodies.

Elven curses grew in volume and frequency as the heat in the pit of my stomach ratted the lid, threatening to boil over, and my fingers dug into Jathrin’s back as if my grip would save me from topping over the edge. The pooling, boiling heat began to spill out and down, warming me from the inside out. I gasped, heavy breaths throwing my chest awry, and felt the smallest cramp creep into the arch of my foot at the force of my toes curling. Jathrin murmured sweet nothings in our common tongue, the phrases broken by his heavy breathing as our bodies filled the room with the echoing sound of skin slapping skin, the unhinged gasps and cries of one another’s names.

My thighs shook against my lover, my eyes rolling back in my head as my body tensed harshly. Without warning, the flood of heat passed from my limbs, washed away by the tidal wave of pleasure that seized control of me with an iron grip. I couldn’t catch my breath, frozen in time with my mouth bent halfway between an ‘o’ and Jathrin’s name. The impending orgasm drew my shoulder blades in almost violently, pushing my sweat soaked back from the bed, and forcing me to cling to Jathrin’s body as he kept up with the hard rhythm.

My vison went white, blinding me to nothing aside from the white hot fire that consumed me with an unforgiving hunger. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing yet, but Jathrin’s name fell from my mouth in a loud cry, tears welling up as my body quivered like the last leaf clinging to a branch in whipping winds.

With another cry, I collapsed against the bed, riding out the heady aftershocks as Jathrin brought himself to orgasm. His body jerked and quivered almost as harshly as my own, and he moaned ‘ar lath ma’ in fragments that were almost incoherent.

We laid there for a long while, our breathing coming down from gasps that broke sweats along our skin, to pants that heaved our chests, to finally a normal rhythm that allowed enough room for coherent words. Jathrin pulled out from inside of me, and I wrinkled up my nose as the mixed fluids between my orgasm and his leaked out from between my legs. He chuckled softly at my expression, wiping the sweat and tears from my face, before rolling off to the side and collapsing onto his back a couple of inches away from me.

“Come here, love.”

“No, I’m gross.”

“Ferion, for the love of—no, you are not. I would not want to be near you if I thought you were gross. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you how much I adore you.”

“Okay, but don’t complain when you’re covered in our mixed bodily fluids.” I rolled in a splay of sweat drenched limbs towards Jathrin, curling up against him. The warmth between my thighs was slowly subsiding into a gentle throbbing, and my body ached with a spent exhaustion. Jathrin wrapped his arm around my body, pulling me close to his own, and nuzzling my sweat dampened hair.

“We both need to bathe.” He chuckled, but stopped himself short, stiffening. “Oh, Creators, I just realized, love, we did not use—”

“It’s fine, Jath. Solas believes the anchor is the reason why my body doesn’t menstruate anymore, and its effects on me are unintentionally preventative. Weird magic like this is wrecking more havoc on my body then I can see, and the possibility of…whatever happening is slim. Really slim. Don’t worry.”

Jathrin’s lips pressed a kiss brimming with adoration against my forehead, and he sighed contently. “Would you ever consider a family though?”

“Not with this body.”

“I did not mean that.” He frowned, pursing his lips. “I was referring to something in the way of adoption or fostering children perhaps. There are plenty of elven orphans who need loving parents. And you, my love, would be an incredible father.”

“Are you saying you want to start a family with me, Jathrin?” I pushed myself up on my elbow, looking down at my lover with warmth. A strange feeling blossomed in my chest, one stronger than what I’d come to identify as the unbridled love I felt for the man below me.

He beamed at me, his dark eyes positively glowing. “Yes, perhaps I would one day. But for now,” Jathrin’s arm wrapped around my body, toppling me onto his chest. He peppered kisses along every inch of my face he could possibly reach, and finally blew a small raspberry against my pink cheek. “I just want to shower my love in affection.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Week Four, Month One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp.

_Part II: Week Four_ , _Month One_

**I.**

The events of the Winter Palace were just about two calendar weeks past. While it seemed that all of my physical marks from the battles of binding and ballrooms had faded, my emotional wellbeing had become heinously scarred in the recent days. I told myself it was just residual fallout from the weariness I’d been steadily pushing to the closet in the back of my mind, but something stirring in my guts told me otherwise.

The Inquisition’s efforts on my account where putting us in a position where the bared fangs of my soldiers were chomping at the bit to fell The Elder One and his plans, and I was struggling to save face and reign them in. If I was being honest, I could consider myself no better. For my own selfish reasons, I ached to bring this nightmare to an anticlimactic close, to bloody my blade in the red of my enemies in one fell swoop. I longed for the moment I could collapse into my quarters in Skyhold, close my eyes, and drift into a dreamless sleep no longer plagued by the reliving of the fires that swallowed Haven singeing the back of my neck.

My wants were tabled, however, as I could sleep only in short bouts that were often disrupted by runners dispatched from the war table by Morrigan and my advisors who were tirelessly planning an excursion to the Arbor Wilds. The party was set to depart in three days’ time, and the last minute ends that consistently needed tying up somehow _always_ required my approval.

Between the disjointed sleep schedule and the stress from another battle looming over my shoulder like the hand of Corypheus himself, I was running myself ragged. A new fatigue had recently taken residence within my body, and while it sometimes made nice with the rolling storm always on a low boil in my guts, it had really begun to throw me for a loop. Try as I may, the weariness couldn’t be evicted, and many of my companions were taking notice.

The most recent events which drew attention to the relentless fatigue was noted by Cullen, damn him, and he’d in a roundabout sort of way put Leliana into a mothering fit. She had sent for another healer specifically to look after me, and even slipped a hint to Cole to be mindful of how I was faring. I loathed that my own personal battles were becoming something of a public and community forum, but I hadn’t been doing a particularly noteworthy job of caring for myself thus far. 

For the better part of a week, I made every effort conceivable to brush off the extra steps my companions and advisors alike had taken to soothe my fatigue. I didn’t need to be babied, I’d told them in distaste, I only needed a week’s worth of truly restful sleep. They seemed to forget I was still only an elf, and anchor or no, that fact alone meant I was breakable.

I managed to suffer through the exhaustion with a brave face, and it wasn’t until Jathrin made note of my slowed aura did I finally admit defeat. I could lie to the mirror, to my advisors, even to my companions, for as long as it took; but when it came to Jathrin and his too-honest eyes, I would have to face the truth whether I liked it or not.

 

* * *

 

**II.**

Jathrin’s body cradled mine, his fingers carding through my hair and his warm lips skimming my temple in the barest of kisses. I let myself go heavy in his grasp, sighing as though I couldn’t catch my breath. Lately, I had been tackling random and unfortunately frequent bouts of anxiety that stole the breath from my lungs, and even after they’d passed, I still be left gasping for air. Along with the breathless anxiety, I’d also been feeling noticeably lightheaded and dizzy in sporadic bouts. I figured it was just as well tied into the anxiety, but even when I was breathing normally and resting in total calm, my body would spin itself into a near blackout. I’d picked up how to disguise the dizzy spells almost as soon as they’d taken hold of me, but I was one more mid-conversation blackout from going to see a healer.

“What is it?” Jathrin asked quietly, his voice was as soft as his touch, pulling me from my disgruntled thoughts. He cradled me to his chest as though I were a priceless relic, cracked and frail, as the slow and reportative motions of his long fingers worked at soothing the queasy feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach. The love and concern he expressed for me warmed the cold room with the type of intimacy only afforded to us when we could catch a moment alone.

I snuggled closer to Jathrin’s body, closing my eyes as a shudder rippled along every disc in my spine. “The usual. I’m tired. I also don’t feel all that well today. I woke up kind of nauseated and it hasn’t gone away yet. I think I ate something bad yesterday or maybe I’m ill with a stomach bug.” My shoulders bobbed in a half shrug. “I hope it goes away soon because fighting it is giving me a headache.”

Jathrin’s weary inhale lifted my body a couple of inches, and his breath, which always seemed to smell of teakwood and mint, washed over my face as he exhaled. The scent, normally so calming with its familiarity, twisted a painful knot in my stomach as it seemed stronger than usual, and laced with a something as potent as garlic.

I felt myself cough, and quickly pulled away from Jathrin to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The springs wailed behind me as Jathrin rose from his slouched position against the headboard, and he placed a comforting hand at the small of my back. “Ferion? Are you alright?”

My mouth filled with watery saliva, and I pressed my palm tightly to my lips to subdue the harsh lurch of my stomach. Behind me, I could almost feel Jathrin tense with worry, and I knew his brows were drawn in so tightly above his nose, the crease that I loved would be highly apparent. I wanted to bask in the warmth of my love for the man at the thought, but another harsh lurch yanked any comfort the thought may have provided from my body.

I stood from the bed on wobbly legs and buckled knees, stumbling out of the bedchambers and onto the balcony looking high above the frozen river and mountainous terrain. The cold afternoon air against my face should have calmed me, but I barely had enough time to react to my body before I was draped across the railing like a sheet put out to dry.

My body betrayed me, retching violently as my knuckles paled beneath the grip on the cold marble. I could feel a light sheen of sweat breaking out across my skin, a thick string of bile hanging off of my lower lip as I coughed around the acrid burn in the back of my throat. Three waves of lurching and vomiting plagued my body before the exhaustion took hold again, collapsing my legs beneath my own weight. My stomach did a backflip into my throat before finally settling like a rock dropped to the bottom of a lake.

I hadn’t noticed Jathrin’s presence at my backside, and jolted as his strong arms caught me and lowered both of our bodies against the cold stone flooring. He drew me against his chest, gently rocking our bodies as his hand cupped my head; thumb stroking my cheek as I broke down into a fit of choked sobs. Tears streamed quickly down my face, and I clung to my lover as if my life depended on how tightly I held.

He whispered soothing phrases to me in our shared tongue, sweet words a mother may say to her wailing child. The tenderness of his voice only served to draw harsher sobs from my chest, wracking my entire torso with an unquenchable distress. My fingers locked around the cloth of Jathrin’s tunic, holding his body against mine as I shivered against the cold mountain air. I willed myself to calm down, but the tidal wave of emotional turmoil bubbled and frothed in between my ribs, thick black tendrils of emotion slithering through my veins.

Jathrin merely cooed to me, kissing the top of my head between broken phrases of a familiar Dalish lullaby. It was fitting, I supposed, as I felt like a child battling their first bout of sickness. The weakness of the moment weighed on me, not only as the fatigue left in the wake of being sick, but in the embarrassment of being sick in front of my lover. Sure, we had been naked in front of one other countless times, but this kind of nakedness was to a caliber I never wished to reach. I felt dirty, disgusting, and as much as I couldn’t afford to let him go, I didn’t particularly relish the fact Jathrin was cradling my tainted body. What if I was coming down with a stomach illness? He’d contract it for sure being in such close proximity to me.

I worried myself sick, and felt a second wave of nausea crash over my body almost as strongly as the first had. The force at which the sobs wracked me did nothing to quell the feeling, and the stirring dread inside of me kicked up again. Something was wrong, and I knew this sickness had to be more than just a bad piece of food rolling through my guts.

 

* * *

 

**III.**

More than a week after the incident in my bedchambers, I found myself shored up in between the skeptical gazes of both Jathrin and Morrigan as we made ourselves ready to depart the camp set in an open portion of the Arbor Wilds. Vibrant birds cawed amidst the deep viridescent canopy that hung lowly under its own weight, exotic flowers and fruits nestled in between the wide leaves. Soliders outfitted in Inquisition uniforms lined the camp, holding anything from banners, to a good luck charm from a spouse or child, to the tight formation of tactical assault squadrons. My head spun with fatigue as my brain struggled to process all that occurred around me; each fire of a cannon echoing for what seemed like an eternity. I struggled with maintaining the weaning coherency through the brain-fog, putting on a brave face and telling myself that I was okay.

My forces allied with Celene’s had already begun their assault on the Red Templars and remaining few possessed Wardens, and soon I would follow behind them, their hero and Inquisitor throwing himself headlong into danger and led by Andraste’s loving hand. The thought tasted bitter on the back of my tongue, and I sighed just thinking about the trials that lay ahead of me. Morrigan had debriefed me on our journey to the Arbor Wilds, and the tales she told of this cursed place did little to put my mind at ease. Whatever lay beyond this overgrowth would be another test of my depleted mettle.

Whatever trials I was destined to face, however, could be no greater threat to my mettle than the shock of the news I’d been left to sit with overnight.

Still sheathed within the safety and privacy of my personal quarters, which was no more than a glorified tent, I stared with a blank disdain at my armor laying neatly in a pile. The intricate green and auburn patterns seemed threatening to me, but I knew the threat was barely a third of my struggles; an uphill battle racing against total collapse. My body continued to betray me, only seeming to amplify the impending doom upon the world.

On top of the continuation of the nausea, anxiety, breathlessness, lightheadedness, and dizzy spells, something else about my body was amiss. My breasts were unbelievably sore as of late, and the occasional prickling similar to that of a numb limb would settle into the tissue and fan out towards my nipples. The pain was not a come-and-go, rather, it lingered like the nausea, and made binding my chest next to impossible. Any sort of pressure was cause for excruciating pain, and not even sex helped to lessen it. Jathrin and I had to stop the other night when he was a bit too rough with me and the pain in my chest overtook me, and by the end of the night, I’d doused the spark with a fit of crying and vomiting.

My moods were becoming less and less stable as my body acted out, and I felt hopelessly distraught. After the nausea and vomiting hadn’t improved for over forty eight hours since we’d made camp in the Wilds, I had gone to see the resident healer in the dead of the previous night in the hopes that nobody would catch me. I didn’t really understand my own motivation at secrecy, but nothing could have prepared me for my diagnosis. The stirring feeling in my guts kicked up as I thought on the hollow words that rang through my skull as loudly as the cannon fire rang through the forest, and I closed my eyes to swallow down the bile rising in my throat. My breathing kicked up, the short gasps for air drowned out by the sound of my heartbeat.

_‘You are pregnant.’_

Less than twenty four hours ago the healer had poked and prodded me with questions, felt every gland and pressed her ear to every organ, until eventually she shook her head at my vehement denial. She informed me that she was once a midwife before joining the Inquisition as a healer for those with battle-inflicted wounds, and had claimed the ability to recognize a pregnancy before even the mother could.

_‘But I’m not a mother! I’m a man!’_

My hands met the bare skin of my stomach, fingers splaying as my palms ran slow circles around my naval. Tears pooled behind my closed lids, falling silently as my heart thundered like a stampede of horses. “Your body doesn’t care what your mind knows…” I repeated the words spoken to me aloud, choking on each syllable as the dawning realization of my situation washed over me. I told myself if I denied the notion hard enough, my body would catch up to my mind and I would miscarry. This whole mess would end in blood. I would play it off as if I were simply starting to menstruate again, and from here on, be vigilant about my sexual activity.

I begged the healer to help me. I begged her on the basis that I could not feasibly carry this out, not while I was the only being standing between this world’s chaos and Corypheus’s unholy rule. She didn’t seem to care, and could only offer me a procedure in which a large feather would be inserted and used to self-terminate the pregnancy. I begged her again, _‘there must be something else you can do! A mixture I can drink? Herbs I can put up there?’_

She knew of nothing, but was kind enough to send me off with a satchel of roots to chew on when the nausea hit. I knew I had no right to be upset at her, this was by no means her fault, but I was. I was upset at her, angrier at myself, but most of all, feared for my relationship with Jathrin. The mere thought of telling him made me ill, and in no alternate universe could I ever picture myself telling the first man I ever truly loved that I was carrying his child. I had always been haunted by the reproductive capabilities of my body, but now here I stood, staring those horrors dead in their lifeless eyes. Here I stood, half naked with aching breasts and nausea enough to call sea sickness a picnic, a vessel to the creation of a new life; one that was half of myself, and half of Jathrin.

* * *

 

**IV.**

I didn’t know how long I’d been standing in my quarters, weeping silent tears as my hands roamed about my midsection with a burning discomfort choking me. I contemplated chewing on a bit of the root in an attempt to ease the bile crawling up my throat, but I wasn’t sure if heling herbs worked the same on psychosomatic ailments.

Time being as lost to me as it was, it came as no surprise my awareness of my own surroundings fell away with it. When Jathrin’s voice filled my ears, it was no shock that I jolted and instinctively drew my hands away from my belly.

“Ferion? Is everything alright in here?”

I quickly wiped at my eyes, sniffing harshly as I turned to face Jathrin. His face fell when I wouldn’t meet his eyes, and as an almost automatic reaction, his palms reached towards me. “What is the matter, ma’arlath? Why are you crying? Are you still ill?”

My mouth felt far away from my brain, and I simply couldn’t find the words. Instead, I folded myself into Jathrin’s chest, winding my arms around his midsection as I felt him recoil from my sudden movements. His arms relaxed from their open offering after a brief moment, wrapping me up in a tight embrace. With my ear pressed to his armor-clad chest, I could hear Jathrin’s heartbeat thrumming below his skin, and my body shook with a warning that panged the corners of my eyes. I blinked back the rapidly pooling tears, clinging to my lover’s body as my thoughts raced in a panicked flurry of emotion. My chest absolutely ached as I pressed myself into Jathrin, but I ignored the pain easily in favour of dipping into a panic.

A thousand thoughts scurried up the walls of my brain, falling with a wet thud against the concrete as I dwelled on the edge of the abyss. Should I tell him? Should I worry him with this? What would he think? What would he feel? What would he say or do? Would knowing put him at risk in battle because he was so distracted? Would he leave me immediately? Would he be happy, or angry? Would he blame himself?

I bit my tongue, chewed on the inside of my cheek, dragged the skin of my lower lip through my upper incisors until it bled. Try as I may, I couldn’t wrap my head around forming the proper words, and could only choke back my endless tears in vain.

Jathrin kissed the top of my head before prying me from his body. He gingerly dragged a knuckle along my jawline, tilting my chin up to meet his worried eyes. His brows were knitted tightly above his nose, and the frown on his lips dug deeply into the sides of his mouth. “Ferion, you have been acting strangely for a long while. What is it? Are you wounded or ill? I am deeply concerned for you. Yesterday night you disappeared for a long while before you crawled back into bed and sobbed yourself into sleep. What has happened? Please, emma lath, tell me what is wrong.”

I stopped, my eyes widening. “You…you were awake?”

“Of course. When you got up to leave it startled me because suddenly the warmth of your body was absent. I assumed you had simply gone to use the latrine, but when you did not return for a long while, I could not fall back to sleep. I wanted to comfort you on your return, but I was afraid you would think me duplicitous if I had tried to reach out to you. Ferion, what is happening to you? I am asking not for myself, but because I care so deeply about you. I want to help you.”

I bit my tongue again, flooding my mouth with the metallic taste of aged copper. By the Creators, I wanted to tell him. I wanted to look him in his eyes and tell him with the brutal honesty and rawness that tore me up inside how my body was incubating a child. _His_ child. I wanted to admit to him how much panic and fear was settling like ash in my chest, how the dysphoric feelings of self-hatred lurked in the shadows with a hungry fervor, and how I made myself sick wondering how I was to save the world when in about forty weeks, I’d be on my back in labor.

I wanted to talk to him honestly, but I had no idea how. I could only shake my head, swallowing thickly, and dropping my gaze to my bare feet. Shame hung above me like inclement weather, and I felt Jathrin’s exhausted sigh flood the tent. He placed a hand against my cheek before dropping all bodily contact, and turned on his heel towards the door-flaps.

“Morrigan wishes to depart soon. We have not much time as the battle is drawing nearer to the camp. Finishing dressing and meet us at the rendezvous point as soon as possible.” I nodded, crossing my arms over my bare chest in defeat. Jathrin’s pause prickled against my ears, and his breath hitched. “Oh, and Ferion? Ar lath ma.”

The door-flap closed behind Jathrin’s soft footsteps, and a fresh wave of tears dribbled down my cheeks in the wake of his absence. “I’m sorry.” I murmured after him. “I love you too.”

* * *

 

  **V.**

I dressed quickly after Jathrin had left, and pulled myself together by sheer power of will alone; cinching the drawstrings on my emotions as I stepped from the tent to face the world.

I met my party where Jathrin had instructed me to do so, and smiled wearily. Morrigan looked me over, her gold eyes glinting with a suspicious dissatisfaction. I dismissed her with my eyes, giving her a minute shake of my head to let her know I was serious. I had only just pulled myself together, I didn’t need her judgmental gaze unhinging all of my work. I no longer had the energy to be truly, believably okay. The façade would have to do.

“Inquisitor, we haven’t much time. Tis better late than never to move.”

“Right,” I nodded, purposely avoiding looking at Jathrin as his eyes watched and calculated my every move. “Shall we then? We have a would-be god to stop.”

Morrigan gestured widely, allowing me to take point and lead my party into the brush. Jathrin and Morrigan both flanked me, with Cole and Iron Bull at their heels. I gulped down more nausea, trying to focus more on my footing than on the word ‘pregnancy’ that bounced like rubber through my mind. My efforts didn’t contribute much, and the uneasy silence was broken by Cole’s voice; a clear bell ringing against all of our ears.

“Panic, choking panic coursing through my body. I should tell him, I need to, but I can’t. What if, what _if_? I can’t lose him.”

I nearly stopped dead in my tracks, coughing as I spluttered over my words. I could almost feel Jathrin perk up, and I turned to shoot Cole a glare. The wide brim of his tattered hat deflected it.

“Cole.” I managed with a cracked voice. “Stop it.”

“My body a vessel, a betrayal. I am broken inside and out, my body cannot match my mind. It is growing inside of me, his, and I cannot stop it.”

“ _Cole._ ”

The party’s reactions stuck into my back like knives. Morrigan’s raised brows, Bull’s wide eyes, Cole’s paused stance, and then…Jathrin. His face blank, paled of the warmth underlying the mahogany, his eyes wide as they met mine.

I mouthed ‘don’t’ to him before turning my back to the party. I couldn’t deal with this. Not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anybody was wondering, I've formatted the plot this way because the story is written as glimpses, kind of like the way journal entries flow. Also, I'm not writing any major battles because a.) I'm a lazy shit, b.) I don't remember all of the details, and c.) I wouldn't be able to do them justice. Also-also, the time is going to skip around to certain milestones rather than go week-by-week because then nothing would get done. However, after this, things are really going to heat up because now that both Ferion and Jathrin know...well, you'll see. 
> 
> As always, Ferion is mine and Jathrin is Anne's.


	3. Week Six (Jathrin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to change the character perspective and thus this chapter happened. It's a little shorter than the rest but I'm gently pushing ever forward.

_Part III: Week Six – Jathrin_

**I.**

By the time Morrigan, the Iron Bull, Cole, Ferion, and I had all stumbled through the Eluvian as we returned to Skyhold, my vison had blurred beneath the flurry of thoughts dragging their unwieldy talons in even rows across the surface of my brain. My stomach had been wrapped around itself for the better part of twenty four hours, hungrily absorbing the fallout from my thoughts. I let the disbelief run its course through my veins before allowing myself the luxury of anger, of frustration. While the lyrium crazed Templar, Samson, had given me room to work through some of my anger, the underlying frustration simply would not release me. I wanted, in desperation, to feel anything beyond this burning discomfort aching at the back of my mind. I wanted to sit with Ferion, to hear the words not from Cole’s lips, but his own. I wanted the honest confirmation, I wanted to hold his body in my arms, and I wanted, more than anything, to know he was okay. Even through my own anger, my own frustration, I still loved Ferion with every fibre of my being.

He had, however, been avoiding me since before we had even set foot in the Temple of Mythal. A single word mouthed to me closed every door, slammed shut every window that would have allowed me to speak to him. As far as I knew, Ferion was shutting me out. He cut himself off from his own emotions, and I watched as he swung the sword larger than his lithe frame as if it were weightless, burying the silver blade into enemy after enemy; splattering his armor in red. I watched in horror as he sustained a deep gash in his right arm from Samson’s blade, yet ignored the blood staining his alabaster skin in a sickly crimson in favour of retaliating against the blow. I watched, silently, as his shoulders sunk lower with each new bit of information given through exploration of the Temple. I could not imagine what he was feeling, and my own desire to reach for him overcame me on several instances, yet I stifled those desires with my frustration. Perhaps it was out of character, but I felt a sour sense of beguilement seeping into my bones.

The news lingered in my mind, and while I was brought almost to a state of shock during the Temple exploration, I had focused more so on putting the pieces together. It all made sense as my mind marinated in the realization; the bout of sobbing after Ferion had snuck out in the dead of night, the constant nausea and vomiting, the soreness in his chest, and the extreme peaks and valleys of his moods. He had been complaining of slight weight gain as well, even as he continued to vomit several times a day, and the uncharacteristic unhappiness he consistently lingered on the edge of seemed more and more of a red flag the longer I paused on the thought. The signs were all there, staring us both in the face, and yet we had somehow managed to overlook them all.

I would admit my fault in this precarious situation, though that did not mediate it. I should have been more careful with him, I should have been more vigilant to ensure no events like this would have ever come to pass because it would be Ferion who would suffer its effects greater than I. I could have dwelled on blaming myself, but staring in the face of such a drastic life event, doing so would only widen the rift forming between Ferion and myself. I wanted only to have him reach out, to meet him in the middle, and talk about this. Surely this situation could be worked out, just as with all of the other trials and tribulations we had seen each other through thus far. Just another bump in the road, just another trial come to pass, just another event of a twisted fate he was meant to brave.

That very bravery is what stole my affections. I was never more certain of my love from him than after Haven. When he could finally walk, limping and gasping for breath as he nursed a series of fractures and bruises, he collapsed against me and thanked the Creators in our native tongue that I had emerged from the battle unscathed. We had yet to show any romantic inclination towards one another quite yet, but following his tearful thankfulness, my devotion to him as not only Inquisitor but as a friend became almost undying. It would be only a handful of short months before we were to become involved romantically, and after we had walked physically through the Fade, I promised myself that I would love and care for this man until I could no longer take up arms, or until he bid me to go.

Through the many struggles I had watched him take on, through the countless nights I had held him as he broke down into sobbing fits at the unholy clutches of nightmares and flashbacks, through the small moments where he would pause mid-battle to make sure I was alright, I fell in love. A rough, ruddy type of love that did not steal the breath from my lips, yet stole the heart straight from within my chest. I wanted to give Ferion the world, in the way he tried to do the same for me.

Because I loved him so strongly, because I cared for this man so deeply, I was admittedly hurt at his deception. It was not a sense of entitlement I felt towards him, but I was destined now to father the child he was carrying. His body was a vessel to a life we had, inadvertently, created together, and knowing he intended to keep this from me until he simply could not felt wrong to me. I tried to tell myself that I needed to consider what Ferion was feeling, what havoc was brewing behind his eyes, but I could not manage to understand what I did not know. Try as I may, unless he would talk to me, I was at an impasse of uncertainty.

The weariness I felt from attempting to wrangle my thoughts into some form or coherency, as well as the battle-worn fatigue in my muscles put a damper on my mood further, and my patience was running a bit thin. Ferion’s thinly veiled excuses to avoid me were becoming tiresome, and I was at my wit’s end with the man. I tried to force myself into compassion as he was very obviously struggling to manage his own thoughts, but compassion in the face of annoyance tended to fizzle out. Rather than lie to myself and to Ferion that I was not bothered by the lack of communication, I waited until the right moment to bring up the conversation. Ferion and I shared a bedchamber, shared a _bed_ , and we both knew there was no possible way he could keep avoiding me. One way or another, he would eventually have to talk with me.

Even if he did not talk with me now, I had an idea on how to open the door for a conversation. After our clumsy return to Skyhold, I separated from Ferion as he headed off to debrief with the advisors and Morrigan in the war room. The flash of relief on his face as I stepped away was troubling to me, sending a twinge into my chest that prodded at the annoying burn still flittering about my mind. I knew he was not acting this way purposefully, avoiding me was something else entirely, because the amount of responsibility resting upon his shoulders was great. Nonetheless, it did not excuse his behavior, and I warranted my displeasure with the situation was justified.

And that was exactly the point I continually reminded myself of. While I was a bit miffed at Ferion’s avoidances, the whole situation was truly the root of my negative feelings. I could not place all of the blame on Ferion because it was not his sole fault that he and I were now in this situation. Accountability was definitely a touchy subject, though a necessary one. If we were to get past this awkwardness, we would need to do it together, admitting we both had a hand in the pot.

I sighed deeply as I trudged my way to the private quarters Ferion and I shared. My armour was becoming quite cumbersome, and I relished the thought of stripping the chainmail and leather in exchange for a loose fitting tunic and some leggings.

When I arrived in the room, I did just that, forsaking the protective outerwear and crumpling into the bed. When the plushness of the Orlesian made mattress accepted my body, I was given the opportunity to acknowledge how truly tired I was. An achy feeling settled into my body, and I rolled onto my side, facing the empty stairwell. My lids fluttered underneath the weight of my exhaustion, but I told myself to stay awake. I wanted to be awake when Ferion came up the stairs, though my body had other ideas. Fight as I may, the exhaustion won me over, and I allowed myself to lid my weary eyes. I battled the creeping hand of sleep, but in the end, plunged deep below the surface of the unconsciousness blanketing me.

* * *

 

  **II.**

I awoke some time later to the sound of the heavy wooden door falling back on its hinges. Ferion’s footsteps echoed about the room as he climbed the stairs, and the exhaustion that followed him like a black cloud filling the space behind him. I rubbed tired at my eyes, blinking through a haze of sleep as I watched him make his way onto one of the balconies overlooking the frozen river below. His body hung limply over the carved marble, and I swung my legs over the bedside to stand.

Pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled sleepily outside, blinking fiercely against the biting air and the piercing sun. Ferion stiffened as I approached him, and the frown set upon my lips deepened. Was he afraid of me?

As I approached his side, I leant on the railing beside him, watching as he dropped his head in a weary defeat.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.” He said after a long moment, his thin fingers tracing mindless patterns along the plethora of freckles dotting his hands. Since returning, he’d somehow already swapped out his armour for the grey outfit worn about Skyhold’s grounds, and I noticed the seams stretched to account for the extra weight he’d been complaining about.

“Did you want me to find out at all?” I offered in a tone panged by my annoyance after he’d stopped tracing his hand, flicking my eyes from his hands to his face. His lower lip paled and quivered as he wiped angrily at his eyes, turning his head away from me. With a cautious gentleness, I put a hand on his shoulder, biting my lower lip as I felt the tiniest bit of regret for my tone.

“I…don’t know, Jathrin. I really don’t.” Ferion’s voice shook almost as readily as his lower lip, but I could tell he was fighting with himself. The broken voice was a dead giveaway. “I only found out the other day, and I’m still processing it.”

“Why did you not come to me, Ferion?” My voice sounded impatient, and I watched as Ferion recoiled, once more turning his head away to wipe at his eyes when I dropped my hand. “You know that I am here for you through everything, I promised you that. This is not something you would have been able to keep from me forever.”

“I know, Jathrin.”

“If so, why did I find out you were pregnant through Cole then?” Ferion did not react nor reply, and I felt my blood start to boil below my skin. I wanted, no, need to understand him. I could not go on this way. “Answer me, Ferion!”

He paused, sniffed harshly, and turned to me with tear streaks along his ruddy cheeks. His eyes were pleading with me, but the way his thin brows drew in told a different tale. “Because, Jathrin, I’m fucking terrified, okay?! Because I am supposed to be a man and yet I am a mother! Because I fucked up and now I’m carrying your child! And because I don’t even know if you want the fucking thing, let along care enough to see me through this! I fucked up, Jathrin, okay?! I fucking…I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to make this right…”

I watched as Ferion fell to pieces, cupping his face in his hands as he sobbed messily into his palms. He turned his back towards me, stumbling slightly, and leaning against the glass door frame for support as his knees buckled. Time seemed to stop around me as I watched the man I knew to be as strong as a fortress withstanding countless assaults turn to ash and rubble, a hollow skeleton of strength. My chest tightened with an uncomfortable bubble of emotion, my breathing catching on every space between my ribs. I was angry at Ferion for not telling me, when he had been terrified of doing so. I was frustrated with him for being dishonest, when he had not lied to me once. I realized, watching him sob himself sick, that I was not angry or frustrated at him. I was angry and frustrated with the way I had found out. And yet, I had unleashed that undue anger and frustration on Ferion when he was already going through so much.

“Ferion…”

“You…you have a right…t-to be angry at me…” He choked out between sobs, grappling with the words that fell like rocks from his mouth. All of the annoyance and anger fizzed out, and my chest brimmed with love. I could not be upset knowing what I did, and to think this could have been avoided had there not been an error in communication. Here I stood, feeling small and insignificant, watching the man I loved sob because he feared my rejection. The notion seemed absolutely absurd to me, but Ferion was a snarled field of worn out emotions that made little sense to the both of us alike.

“I am not, Ferion.” I stepped towards him, wrapping my arms around his midsection from behind. My lips pressed relentless kisses against his tear-dampened cheek, and his body hiccupped as he tripped over the sobs spilling from his chest. “I am not angry at you. I was upset about how I had found out because I wished I had heard the news from you directly. You are afraid and that is okay, but I am not angry at you. You are not going to be left alone through this.” I paused, pulling away slightly to gently tug at his shoulder. “Hey, look at me.”

Ferion, his motions small and hesitant, turned to face me, his face stained with thick blotches of red. I managed a weak smile, and gently cupped his cheeks in my palms. My thumbs wiped away the tears lingering on his skin, attempting to soothe him; though, it was to no immediate avail. “Hey, hey. Do not cry, love. You are no less a man than you were before, and I love you no less than I ever have. This is…this is not the best situation, no, but we can make it through this. I would never leave you, especially not when you are carrying my child. I will be there for you, every single step of the way. I will hold your hand when you want me to, I will hold your hair when you are sick, and I will hold you when you are upset. I will protect you no matter what, and I will love you through every moment.” I leaned in, pressing my lips to Ferion’s forehead, clenching my eyes as tears prickled and blurred my vision. “I just want you to be honest with me, love. That is all. I know you are scared, but I am here for you. Unconditionally.”

Relief would not have been a strong enough word to express my feeling as Ferion folded into my chest, fingers clinging to the fabric of my tunic as he sobbed into my chest. I held the back of his head against my palm, fingers stroking through his hair as my opposite arm curled around his back.

We stood there together for a long while; Ferion slowly calming down as I held him safely against me. He released his grip after another moment, only to gently smooth his fingers over the fabric. I smiled down at him, blinking back the emotional turmoil brewing a storm behind my eyes.

“I don’t tell you that I love you enough, Jathrin.” He managed with a calmer voice, though it was scarred by the thick sound following a heavy cry. “Because I love you more than anything in this world. I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have. I’m sorry. You have a right to know.” He laughed, the sound akin to disbelief. “We’re going to be fathers.”

The word struck me, sending electricity along my arms as I gave Ferion’s body a gentle squeeze. “I know this is not how you would have wanted things to happen, but Ferion,” I pulled away just so, tilting his chin up to look with a warm, loving fondness into his eyes. “If I were to start a family with anybody, I am so glad it is you.”

 

* * *

 

**III.**

Ferion and I eventually came in from the balcony, and opted to lay side by side in bed. I tucked one of my arms beneath my head, watching as Ferion did the same. He used the opposite hand to rub gingerly along his stomach, looking down the length of his body with a disgruntled expression.

“What is it?” I asked, reaching across the minute space between us to lightly push a stray piece of hair from dangling in his eyes.

“I’m showing already. My clothes aren’t fitting right, and anything too tight on my chest hurts. I’m just really uncomfortable.” He looked back up at me, thick purple rings hanging beneath his eyes. I smiled softly, yet lovingly, at him, and startled a bit as he grabbed my hand. “Here,” he said, lifting the shirt to expose his abdomen, and placing my palm against the warm skin. His belly seemed to extend and reach into my hand, though it was slight and could easily be mistaken as the aftermath of consuming too large a meal. “Feel that?”

I could not stop the wide smile from breaking out over my lips. “Oh. Wow. Yes. That is incredible. Do you know how far along you are?”

“Six, almost seven weeks.”

I gently skimmed my fingers over the warm skin, counting back in my head. “Hm. So, after the Winter Palace…”

“Yes. That is when it happened.” Ferion sighed, pulling my hand away from his body. He settled it on his hip instead, his lips in a tight line.

“Does me touching your stomach make you uncomfortable?”

“I want to say no, but it does a bit. Just because this whole thing is really a slap in the face. I was never supposed to have the ability to conceive, and yet, here I am. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the sentence, ‘you are pregnant.’ It just feels so wrong. Like I’m lying or something along those lines. I don’t know. It probably doesn’t help matters much I’m always throwing up. Or having to pee. This fucking kid probably isn’t any bigger than my palm and he’s kicking me in the bladder.”

I laughed, I could not help myself. “How do you know the baby is a boy?”

“I’m taking a shot in the dark. I’d like to think of us having a son.”

“Would you be against having a daughter?”

“No, not necessarily. But it would feel weird to me because she wouldn’t have a mother. I’m not sure I’d be much good at seeing her through the ins and outs of femininity.”

Again, I laughed. “Well, in the case of a girl, we assign Josephine as honorary mother.”

Ferion laughed this time, scooting close to me. I welcomed him into my arms, nuzzling the top of his head. “That works for me.” He spoke softly and around a yawn. “We can talk more about honorary parent stuff later. Crying really wore me out and I need to sleep for a bit, alright?”

I nodded against Ferion’s head. “Okay, love. Go to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

**IV.**

By some miracle, I had managed to catch a few winks shortly after Ferion’s face relaxed, and his light breathing changed from the soft whistling through his nostrils to the louder breathing through his parted lips. He mumbled unintelligible things every now and again, which ultimately stirred me from the light sleep I’d been caught in. I sighed softly as my arms had gone dead beneath Ferion’s weight, and he wrinkled his nose with a twitch of his head.

I wasn’t fully awake quite yet, still plagued with the telltale grogginess following a decent nap. Ferion groaned softly, blinking himself into consciousness. I smiled at him, gently bumping my nose against his.

“Hi.”

“Mnh. Hi.” Ferion smiled sleepily at me, closing his eyes as he leaned in to press his lips gently against mine. I melted into him, kissing him slowly and sweetly, and relishing the carefree tenderness that worked its way from his mouth to mine.

We kissed this way for a long while, both of us still partly asleep through the duration. When Ferion was the first to withdraw, he snuggled against me and let his body go heavy in my embrace. “M’still tired.” He groaned out, voice thick with sleep.

“Go back to sleep.” I murmured, feeling myself teeter on the edge of sleepiness yet again. The warm, calm atmosphere was a catalyst for sleep. “I might.”

“M’gonna. But Jath?” Ferion’s words were garbled against my skin, muffled and nearly unintelligible.

“Hmm?”

“I love you and I’m gonna love this baby because they’re part of you.”

I smiled, holding my love closer to me, though he had already plunged back into sleep. “Me too, Ferion.” I whispered to him, kissing the top of his head. “Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no reason for part IV other than I wanted to end the chapter on some fluff. I want the angst but also not so much sometimes. As always, art belongs to rainbowd00dles on tumblr.


	4. Week Eight, Month Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and fluff. It's what dreams are made of. 
> 
> Also, I started writing this at five a.m. and finished it at 7:45 a.m. so I'm not guaranteeing perfect spelling. Maybe that makes me a shitty author, but I'm really just an insomniac with good intentions. But yeah, I'm putting a huge warning here too because Ferion's nightmare sequence is graphic as all hell, and in light of it, I promise I'm sane.

_Part IV: Week Eight, Month Two – Ferion_

**I.**

_Warm water ebbed my body away from the towering grey walls that took on a starkly pallid look as the unforgiving pull of rushing water tugged me downstream towards the river’s mouth. Green tendrils of aquatic plants reached through the cobalt currents, snarling around my bare legs as crimson flowers crept up my inner thighs in thick bunches. I could not feel my arms holding me afloat, could not feel my legs kicking loose the strangling hold of the plants, yet somehow, I was serene. The water surrounding my naked body was a great comfort, swaddling me in warmth that pooled in my lungs and spread through my abdomen in soft caresses. The rolling waves kicked up on the water’s surface by the impatient current lapped playfully at my chin, sending water droplets flying across my face until they found safety clinging to my lashes. Laughing softly to myself, I turned to the rocky shore, beckoning for Jathrin to join me._

_He smiled, taking deliberate steps into the rushing water that hungrily lapped at his skin. Inch by inch his body was consumed by strikingly blue colour of the river until he stood waist deep in the water, running his palms over the choppy surface. Curiously, I watched as his playfulness melted into a charred wickedness that ensnared his mouth, coiling his lips around jagged teeth that dripped with a thick red carrying the potent scent of rusted copper across the riverbed. The water stilled, solidified, encasing me in ice that ravaged my skin with the heat of fire. The gentle breeze that had been dancing through my hair turned to an offensive wind carrying black clouds across the buttery rays of sunlight, and it filled the air with a sickening stench of rot, of a violent death._

_I tried to scream, but my mouth had been suddenly filled with a bitter acid that turned my teeth to ash. Blood cascaded from my lips, turning the solid water from cobalt to crimson. Vomit pooled in my throat and spilled over my lips, staining the grisly crimson with a shocking yellow that tasted of a cold death. My stomach cramped violently, pushing blood and bile from my lips until I was choking on something solid creeping up the length of my esophagus. I sputtered, thick droplets of blood falling from my lower lip until a writhing, pulsing mass fell limply from my mouth and onto the surface of the ice in a puddle of my blood and vomit. It was a small thing, barely the size of my fist, but it has eyes that looked too close to mine, and a mouth that belonged to Jathrin. Blood oozed from its leathery skin as thin veins in horrific shades of blue and purple throbbed with life, a gaping black hole opening and closing from behind its lips as its body expanded and retracted with each macabre pulse. Again, I tried to scream, but no sound came out, only a thick, pink cord that slithered out of my mouth like a snake and hit the ice with a wet slap._

_The end of the cord had a needle that jabbed itself into the leathery mass, the individual worm-like segments of the cord pumping slowly to life. The mass on the ice wriggled as the cord brought it to life, forming arms, legs, and turning its body from red to brown. Skin erupted from inside the mass, wrapping the newly formed limbs in a protective covering that resembled armour. The shape of a neck formed, pushing up and out to construct a head that looked like mine. Black hair sprouted from the scalp, hanging limply in the puddle of my bodily fluids, the tips seeming to absorb the vile mixture. The cord began to push further out of my mouth as the pulsing mass took on a humanoid shape, its vein riddled surface pumping faster and allowing a distinct shape to morph the mass into an infant._

_Physical characteristics that belonged both to Jathrin and I took shape, and the infant blinked with thick eyelashes that stirred up the ash falling like snow about my body as the wind began to die down. A boy, his body coated in freckles and wearing skin somewhere between Jathrin’s mahogany and my alabaster, wriggled as though he had been poked in the ribs; small, black eyebrows drawing in above the bridge of a nose that looked like mine before I had shattered it as a child. His ears were pointed as sharply as the tip of an arrowhead, and tears filled my eyes as I stared at my newborn child._

_Now fully formed, the cord fell dead against the ice, an indescribably painful ripping filling the space between my ribs. Gasping for air as I choked again, I coughed with a whole body shudder until my still beating heart appeared before me, having lazily rolled through the ashes coating the inside of my mouth. The infant on the ice began to wail as the organ seeped blood along with every thrumming pulse, its cries so loud my heart stuttered with erratic beats that turned the edges of my vison black. I blinked furiously, forcing myself to stay awake, the pain in my abdomen returning and intensifying as though something were ripping me apart from the inside out._

_My heart throbbed erratically with each denial of the pain soaked darkness that threatened to consume me, and each time I resisted, it seemed to harm my son. He cries crackled in my ears, filling my skull with pressure until a hollow pop drowned my ear canals in a warm fluid. More blood leaked from my ears as deafness engulfed me, though I could still hear my child wailing as though he were inside of my skull._

_Frantically, I looked to Jathrin across the river, who collapsed lifelessly against the ice as my eyes touched him. His skull hit the surface with a visible crack, splitting perfectly in two and rounding out at the jagged edges. The identical halves of his skull rolled apart, and a thick fog crept out threateningly across the ice. From the fog rose a figure that towered beneath the quickly darkening sky, and I watched in frozen horror as Corypheus flashed a nasty grin at me. He raised a single hand to shoulder height in a slow arc, and clenched his fist; sending a streak of lightening across the pitch sky._

_In the next instant, I was dangling in his grip, the joint in my shoulder rolling sickeningly along my back. Blood began to rush out from between my legs with dizzying speed, and Corypheus raised his opposite arm as if to strike me. Instead, he dug the talons growing from his fingertips into the flesh of my distended stomach, balling his fist around my internal organs, and yanking them out as easily as a child pulling grass from spring dampened mud. My voice returned as I let out a shrieking cry, shattering the cloud cover swallowing the sky as if it were glass._

* * *

 

**II.**

My screams danced across the line between my nightmare and my reality, spilling messily from my mouth and filling my skull until an invisible hand yanked my brain into frightened consciousness. Unaware I was awake as the soft light from the moon filtered in through the stained glass windows, bleaching the overwhelming darkness, I jolted up in bed and shook as though my body was still trapped in ice.

Breaking down in sobs, I squeezed the sides of my skull between my hands, a rolling sickness plaguing my guts. Corypheus’s face was burned behind my eyelids, and I refused even to blink as tears fell against the soft yellow sheet ensnaring my legs. My chest felt heavy, too heavy for my lungs to lift, and I gasped for air as my head swam through the nightmare marinating in my consciousness.

Beside me, the sheets rustled until Jathrin’s warmth was wrapped around my body, his gentle hand drawing my head in against his chest. He shushed me softly, cooing to me as one palm held me steadily against him, the other running soothingly along my bare arm. He spoke to me in our shared tongue, whispering so softly I almost couldn’t hear him over the sounds of my sobs. My hands fell weakly away from my head, fingers desperately searching along Jathrin’s torso for something to hold onto. He had a tendency to sleep shirtless, and I cried harder as my fingers could find no purchase to cling to. The room spun around me, sickening my unsteady stomach further, and making it even more difficult than usual to ground myself. I was used to the unusual and often haunting dreams and nightmares that had begun to plague my sleep, but this was something entirely new and terrifying. The images, all stained in blood and scented with Haven’s destruction, wracked my body with panic and uncontrollable sobs.

Jathrin rocked our bodies slightly, pressing his lips to the top of my head as his fingers carded through my sweat soaked hair. My heart ached as I replayed the vision of myself vomiting it up again and again, the horror of the dream settling with a mind numbing ache into my bones. I sobbed into Jathrin, wrapping my arms around him as best I could at this awkward angle, attempting vainly to ground myself with the feeling of his sleep warmed skin. It proved to be of little effectiveness, but I would take next to nothing over being lost in a hazy sea of horror.

I could barely feel myself sobbing anymore, and the only reason I realized it was due to Jathrin’s hand wiping at my frantic tears. He pulled me away from his chest, sitting me up, and cupping my swollen cheeks in his hands. His eyes bore into mine, and I watched his lips bend around words that sounded murky and far away.

“…I am here.”

My hearing cleared as he stopped speaking, and I hesitatingly blinked as a tired shudder ripped through my body. Jathrin’s worried face tripped my tear ducts, and more tears raced along my cheeks, melting into his hands. The pads of his thumbs dragged softly along the apples of my cheeks, and his brows knitted tightly together over his nose.

“Ferion, love, are you alright? Please, talk to me. Say something to me. Say anything.”

“I-I-I-I-I…” I choked out, my lips feeling clumsy, my tongue too large for my mouth. I briefly ran the tip of it over my teeth, making sure they were all still there. “c-c-can’t…Jathri-i-i-n.”

“Okay, love, okay. Just hush. What do you need? What do you want? What can I do for you? How can I help? Anything, love, anything you need.”

My hands shook so hard I almost couldn’t control them, but with a damned determination, I reached up towards the thick band binding Jathrin’s hair in a sleek ponytail. My hands were maladroit and infantile as I hopelessly struggled with the band, and I cried audibly as frustration gripped at me. I just needed to hold, to touch, to ground myself and remind my body and brain alike that I was safely awake now.

Jathrin cooed at me, letting his grip on my cheeks fall away as his steady hands reached up and pulled his hair down. It fell around his face like a curtain, framing his jaw and melting over the strong angles of his clavicle. I reached up, my pale fingers dragging through the soft strands, watching as Jathrin’s hair sifted like sand through the spaces between my fingers. Jathrin smiled with a tired affection at me, turning his head to kiss lovingly at my knuckles. His hands rose and cupped around mine, bringing the shaking appendage to his lips. He pressed individual kisses to every knuckle, skimming his nose along the back of my palm.

“Love of mine, what has happened to you?” Jathrin whispered against my skin, his torso heaving with a broken sigh. Even if he tried to act as through my outbursts weren’t draining him, I could see past his poor disguises. It only made me feel worse, made me feel as though I were a burden, and I couldn’t stop the sobs from bubbling in my chest once more. Jathrin frowned, his face looking wounded as though somebody had taken a wooden bat to his stomach, and wrapped me in his arms. The way his body cradled mine was so protective, so loving, and I felt so pitifully unworthy of it all.

This had been the fourth time in less than a week that I had woken both of us from a sound sleep with sobbing and screaming. At first, things had started off with dreams that woke me simply for how strange they were, but in just a few days’ time, the strangeness devolved to horrific and gut wrenching images that were often soaked in blood. It seemed the more time that passed, the longer and more violent the nightmares became, and nothing I tried could soothe them. I’d tried ingesting every herb that was safe for both the baby and myself, tried to take warm baths, avoided foods that upset my stomach, and even had Jathrin bring me to an all but screaming orgasm before sleep. I’d even tried several combinations of them all, worked myself into a routine of relaxation, and yet, here I was. Clinging to a distraught Jathrin as I sobbed over images I couldn’t find right the words to replicate, wholly unable to explain why I was screaming. I couldn’t tell Jathrin what I saw because I couldn’t bring myself to relive the horror, but being unable to speak about what I’d seen only added more fuel to the fire, allowing the nightmares to feed off of one another and multiply to truly hellish magnitudes. The cyclical process kept me awake at night, striking a suffocating fear into my chest as I prayed silently to Mythal to protect me in my sleep. But as history told, both long past and presently made, the prayers went unheard.

 

* * *

 

**III.**

It took nearly, if not, an hour for my mind and body both to stop reeling and fall back into some tangible form of calm. Forcing myself to relax was a grueling process, to say the least, and the closer I approached on sanity, the more I thanked every ounce of divine luck I could lay claim to that Jathrin was by my side.

The more pessimistic side of me quietly grumbled in the back of my mind that if Jathrin weren’t in the picture I may not be here, suffering at the behest of an unwanted pregnancy, but the mere thought of living a life without him seemed unthinkable now. Even if I had never wanted, nor ever expected, to carry a life, I wouldn’t trade my circumstances for the comfort of the mundane. Sure, when I had first come to the Inquisition, I would have given anything to go back in time and prevent the Keeper from sending me to the conclave, but emerging through the trials of fire and bloodshed rekindled the spark that told me the things that happened to me were all part of a greater path I was meant to journey along. I wanted to believe that everything that happened to me was for a very specific purpose or reason, even when I broke down into an emotional wreck.

I took a lot of effort to battle the self-deprecating thoughts that ran my grey matter through its unforgiving teeth like gristle. I felt small, troublesome, and trapped in a body that didn’t, shouldn’t, belong to me. The last two months had passed almost entirely in muted sepia, breaking apart only when Jathrin’s vibrant array of warm colours shattered the aged glass walls built up around me. His warm smiles, the way he loved me through every up and down, the tenderness that he bore as he faced my demons for me, it all added up in the background. White noise that hummed loudly, louder above the unharmonious scratching of my dysphoria and depression, filled my skull as Jathrin’s hands traced my skin as if he were memorizing me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of his face as he lay beside me, his eyes lidded as the milky light pooled in the shadows the night had cast across him. His body was soft with sleep, breathing shallowly as his hair splayed messily about the pillows. Magnetized to his body, I scooted myself nearer to him, gasping softly as my distended stomach bumped the arm draped across his abdomen and causing him to jerk slightly. He blinked rapidly, looking worried as I tried to soothe him with gentle shushing. My voice was thick and hoarse in the back of my throat from sobbing, and Jathrin’s sleep endowed face pulled into a lazy smile.

“I love you.” He murmured, his voice heavy with fatigue. The tenderness of his words was enough to trigger more waterworks from me, but I held it back with a weary smile of my own.

“I love you too, but, Jathrin, can I ask you something?” My voice shook slightly, but I cleared my throat, hoping to break up the gritty film that caked from the back of my throat to the front of my teeth. “You don’t have to say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Smartass.” I murmured, bringing a chuckle from his lips, and he wrapped his arms around my body. Jathrin buried his face in my throat, breathing softly as he pressed his lips against the skin of my throat. “But, um, so have you thought about _after_..?”

“After..?”

“After Corypheus. After the baby is born. After all of this shit finally settles. After.”

“Not particularly,” he murmured against my skin, his breath warm as it fanned out across my throat. “Why, love?”

“Because I was going to ask you to marry me.” For as calm as I didn’t feel, my voice only wavered once, and not particularly noticeably. It wasn’t until I opened my mouth again did my anxiousness pour out, uncontrolled and wildly stupid. “I mean, if you…if you want to! Of course, you don’t have to, I’m not asking you right _now_. Sort of. And I don’t have a ring, not yet, but I think I could find someone in Val Royeaux to tailor one…” My rambling embodied my anxiety and sleeplessness, and it fogged my awareness of Jathrin moving beneath me. “I don’t know what style you’d like, or what metal preference you have, or—mmph!”

Jathrin had cupped my face in his hand, pulling our lips together as he silenced my pointless babbling with a kiss speaking a thousand words I could never clearly bring to fruition. I melted into him, kissing back as though his lips were the only thing keeping me alive.

He broke away from me, breathless, a wide grin plastered on his mouth. “Yes, Ferion. Yes, one thousand times. If I were not so tired, I would marry you this moment.” We laughed softly together, my hands taking on a gentle tremor, though, this time for reasons I rather enjoyed. “I love you more than words will allow me, and if you want to give me the greatest pleasure of being your husband, I could not ask for more. Yes, Ferion. Yes.”

Had I not been so grossly drained, I would have broken into a fit of speechless tears. Instead, I held Jathrin’s body to mine, keeping our foreheads close with my hands resting on his throat. I could feel his aggravated pulse pushing itself against my palms, the warmth of blood pulsing about his body as his heart kicked up its heels within his chest. The warm blanket of night swaddled our intertwined bodies, wrapping us up within one another. The nightmare that had been lingering venomously was placated, even if only momentarily, with the unbridled joy that coursed through my veins, dragging me below the surface of my affections until I was drowning in my love for Jathrin.

“When I get a ring, I’ll get down on one knee and ask you properly.”

“I can not wait.” Jathrin chuckled, pulling his hands from my body to bring the sheets strewn about up, draping us in silken warmth. He snuggled up to me with a loving sigh, affectionately peppering the barest of kisses along every inch of skin his lips could feasibly touch. “But for now, my love,” he managed between kisses. “Close your eyes. Rest. We can discuss marriage when we are better suited to, after a good night of sleep.”

I nodded, yawning as if on cue. “Okay, Jathrin. I love you. So much.”

“And I you. From now until I can no longer love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two. Art is property of rainbowd00dles, do not copy or repost; used here with permission.

**Author's Note:**

> Heh heh. Also, in case it isn't clear, Ferion is trans. I'm not putting a warning for trans characters because as a trans person myself, I don't believe in turning gender in a red flag. I will tag if this becomes an issue, but I'm hoping y'all won't make it one. [thumbs up emoji.]


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